


Small Comforts

by Anonymous



Category: Friends at the Table (Podcast)
Genre: Character Study, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-27
Updated: 2018-10-10
Packaged: 2019-01-05 23:15:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12199353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Re-edited and now a collection of Aly/Arr sickfic drabbles. Original summary under the first chapter.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> POV is fake, who needs it anyway?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The road is not always kind, but home and hearth are what you make of them. Sometimes Autumn feels more like winter, and sometimes care looks more like a soft touch and a gruff word. 
> 
> Alyosha is taken ill after a time away, Arrell is as comforting as he ever is.

Alyosha was not resentful of travel. He had long ago gotten used to leaving one place for another, had chosen to adopt that way of life as his own, even after parting ways with the Grand Tour.  _Still_ , he thought to himself as he walked Velas’s dark streets, _one does grow weary, once in a while._ He drew his cloak tighter against the wind that blew off of the water, an involuntary shiver wracking him as he did. It didn’t often get very cold here, but tonight the temperature had dipped and the cover the thick fabric provided wasn’t quite enough to ward off the brisk night air. By the time he reached the door he was seeking, the chill had sunk deep into Alyosha’s chest. Feet aching and body heavy, he mounted the steps to the door and knocked. The building in front of him was plain, the door made of bare wood, devoid of any personal touches. Even the apartment within, Alyosha knew, was small and practical. Still, he felt warmed when the door opened and he saw Arrell, silhouetted by a combination of magical illumination and dim lamps. The low light that seeped around him fell on Alyosha’s features as he crossed the threshold, glinting on the rim of his glasses and casting deep shadows beneath his eyes and in the hollows of his cheeks.

 

Arrell studied him from head to toe. “You look tired,” he said, by way of greeting.

 

Alyosha’s smile was wan but fond. “It’s good to see you too, Tutor.”

 

“I expected you sooner.” Arrell replied. He reached out and, with a hand on Alyosha’s arm much gentler than his words, drew him in and shut the door behind him.

 

Alyosha breathed a sigh of relief as the wind quieted. “My transportation was delayed. I ended up walking much farther than I had planned for.” He shifted his pack on his shoulders, shivering again. “I will not complain, but I’m glad to have made it tonight.”

           

Arrell scoffed. “A fine time for a delay.” He looked for a moment as if he might have more to say on the matter, but Alyosha interrupted.

 

“Impatient, are you?” and, expression softening into a smile, “I’ve missed you too.”

           

The crease in Arrell’s brow smoothed and he let whatever continued argument he might have had go unspoken as Alyosha leaned tiredly into his arms and kissed him, lingering. Arrell held him close for a moment before pulling back and gently guiding Alyosha down the hall. “Let’s not stand here in the doorway. Put your things down and come have something to eat.”

           

Now that he was out of the wind, Alyosha was beginning to become more fully aware of the extent of his exhaustion. As he found a place by Arrell’s bed to settle his things, it seemed that everything he wished to tell Arrell after his days on the road had fled him, replaced by a longing to pull him into bed and fall instantly asleep in his arms. Instead, at Arrell’s gruff prodding, he joined him at the small table where a plate of food had been set out. He couldn’t help but groan quietly in relief, glad to finally be off of his feet. Across the table, Arrell reached for his hand. Alyosha smiled at the contact, the feeling of Arrell’s warm fingers around his own cold ones. He absently picked up his fork and, despite his fatigue, started to detail the delays that had kept him so long.

There was no real irritation to Alyosha’s retelling now that he had arrived where he was meant to be, and Arrell interjected only once or twice with his opinions on the workings of the other city (disorganized, inefficient) and the provisions of the church for its own (inadequate, hypocritical). Their back and forth was comfortable, habitual. They passed a short while that way, Alyosha talking softly and occasionally taking a bite of food and Arrell listening, mostly watching Alyosha. In the light it was more obvious that his drawn appearance was more than just a trick of the shadows. There were dark purple smudges under his eyes and his face was pale, more so than usual. After a time, Alyosha grew quiet.

           

“You’ve hardly eaten,” said Arrell, nodding to Alyosha’s plate. “Is there something the matter with it?”

 

Alyosha smiled apologetically. “I’m afraid I’m too tired to be very hungry.” He took another bite in an attempt to reassure Arrell, but he struggled to swallow. “I think I’ll just have some tea. Perhaps I’ll have more of an appetite in the morning.”

The truth was that the dull ache that Alyosha had taken to be hunger had not gone away when he ate, but after a few bites, intensified into a churning queasiness in the pit of his stomach. He feared what might happen if he tried to force it.

 

“You should sleep. It’s late and you’re tired.” Arrell was frowning.

 

Alyosha stood, taking his plate and leaning down to kiss the crown of Arrell’s head. “I’d rather sit up with you for a bit. It’s been too long.”

 

“I have some things to finish, then. I was working when you knocked.” Arrell stood as well, keeping a measured closeness between them.

 

“I wouldn’t mind the quiet tonight, but-“ Alyosha shook his head and sighed. “Would you spare one night to come and sit with me? I apologize—I didn’t expect to be quite this exhausted.” He offered another wan smile over his shoulder, hair falling loose from its braid and framing his face. “It isn’t quite the greeting I’d hoped to give you.”

 

A smile worked at the corners of Arrell’s mouth. “I’m sure you’ll find the time, and I suppose I can spare a little.” His tone was not quite as long-suffering as perhaps he meant, and he brushed a hand against Alyosha’s back.

 

“Mm. I’m sure I will. Would you mind putting some water on?” Alyosha asked, setting his half-finished plate aside and taking down a mug.

 

Arrell nodded and stepped away, placing a small kettle on the fire. “It’ll be there when you’re ready.” He sat down at his desk, but did not begin to work, eyes still following Alyosha across the room. While he waited for the water to heat, Alyosha went to his things. Unable to shake his chill, he had left his cloak on through dinner. He took it off now and folded it, leaving it and his shoes neatly beside his bag. He shed his dusty vestments as well, changing into a long, soft shirt and pants. That done, he bent down with a poorly-concealed wince and rummaged in his bag for the small box that held the tea he carried while travelling, hoping to find something that might settle his stomach.

Alyosha’s grimace did not escape Arrell’s notice. Nor did the fact that, by the time Alyosha had fixed his tea and settled into the end of the sofa, book and mug in hand, he was shivering again despite the roaring fire in the grate. Arrell picked up his own book from the desk and got up. He went to the bed, took one of his own blankets, and brought it back. Wordlessly, he wrapped it around Alyosha’s shoulders. His hand lingered for a moment on Alyosha’s chest as he tucked it into place, but he quickly withdrew it before coming to sit at Alyosha’s side.

“Thank you, Tutor.” Alyosha shifted closer until he was leaning against Arrell’s shoulder. Arrell brushed his lips against Alyosha’s temple and opened his book. Comfortable silence fell over them again. Alyosha nursed his mug and Arrell’s arm found it’s way around his waist as the two of them read.

Halfway through his cup Alyosha paused and set it aside. Despite his hopes that he might find some relief from his nausea, the tea only seemed to be making it worse. With every sip his throat tightened and his stomach roiledvthreateningly. Alyosha closed his eyes and took a measured breath. The moment passed. With cautious relief, he turned his attention back to his book. It was a welcome distraction, despite his aching eyes and the growing certainty that this was more than mere exhaustion. 

For a little while, he was successful in distracting himself, the only sound in the room the intermittent sound of turning pages. It was not to be long lived, however. There was a lull in the rustling as Alyosha shifted away from Arrell’s shoulder. He sat stiffly, eyes shut behind his glasses, one thin hand pressed to his stomach and the other marking his place in his book. When Arrell looked up from his book, Alyosha’s face was sallow in the firelight.

           

“Alyosha…” Arrell couldn’t entirely keep the note of concern out of his voice. He reached out and laid a hand on Alyosha’s brow. “You’re feverish.”

 

“I… don’t feel well…” Alyosha replied, opening his eyes briefly, only to shut them again as another wave of dizzying sickness hit him. He covered his mouth with shaking fingers, stifling a reedy burp. “Tutor…” Alyosha’s tone was warning, verging on desperate.

Sensing that Alyosha was in no state to move quickly, and that he would have a mess on his hands if someone didn’t, Arrell got briskly to his feet. He touched Alyosha’s shoulder, as if it could ensure he wouldn’t try to get up.

 

“Don’t move.”

 

Arrell crossed the room and took the basin from the washstand. With clinical urgency, he brought it back and pressed it into Alyosha’s lap. Alyosha gripped the basin, book forgotten. Cold sweat had broken out on his brow and the back of his neck, and Arrell could see his jaw tense as he swallowed compulsively against the bile rising in his throat, trying to delay the inevitable. Arrell grimaced. Alyosha blew out a shaky exhale that turned into another thin burp. On the end of it, his stomach contracted. Alyosha’s shoulders hitched as he gagged, first unproductively and then with a wet sound that sent a watery wave of tea and undigested supper up his throat and into the basin below.

Arrell turned his head in disgust as Alyosha vomited again, but concern overcame revulsion and Arrell turned back, bracing Alyosha’s shoulders. After a few more heaves, Alyosha slumped exhaustedly under his hands. Strings of saliva dripped from his lips and hair clung to his sweaty skin. Holding the basin in his lap, he lifted one hand and shakily wiped his mouth. Arrell released Alyosha’s shoulder and glanced in the direction of the basin with distaste, vanishing its contents with a gesture of his hand. Once it was clean, he reached up to brush a lock of hair of Alyosha’s clammy forehead.

 

“You didn’t tell me you were ill,” Arrell said, brow furrowed.

 

“I didn’t realize…” Alyosha gingerly rubbed his stomach. “I feel a bit better now…” He lifted his eyes, hoping once again to reassure Arrell. And he supposed, by comparison, that he did feel better. He was still nauseous, but the immediate urge to be sick had let up for the moment.

 

Arrell made a clipped “hmph” of disbelief. “You certainly don’t look better.”

 

Alyosha smiled feebly. “No, I’m sure I don’t.” He closed his eyes. “I think I’d like to lay down.”

 

“I think that would be wise.” Arrell agreed.

 

Alyosha handed the basin off to Arrell and stood. As he made to take a step, he wavered, the room seeming to spin around him. Arrell was on his feet in an instant. He put his arm out, and Alyosha caught himself against it. One hand at the small of Alyosha’s back to steady him, Arrell slowly helped Alyosha the few feet to the bed. Alyosha sat down and sank gratefully back onto the pillows. He was still for a moment, lips pressed into a thin line. After a few deep breaths, the dizziness passed. He reached for Arrell’s hand. Away from the warm light, Alyosha could see, Arrell’s face looked even more hard and tense.

 

“Talk with me until I can fall asleep,” Alyosha said.

 

Arrell set the basin on the nightstand and perched on the edge of the bed. “You want to talk?”

 

Alyosha nodded. “It’ll distract me. Tell me about what you’ve been doing.”

 

“That’s not—it isn’t something for now,” Arrell protested, sharp.

 

Alyosha didn’t have the energy to argue. “Tell me about something you’ve read, then.”

 

Arrell acquiesced. “I suppose I can do that.”

 

Alyosha closed his eyes as Arrell began to recount a text he had been reading, something, Alyosha noted hazily, that he could tell Arrell must have chosen because Alyosha might find it interesting. Arrell spoke stiltedly at first, put on the spot and preoccupied with the last hour. But it didn’t take long for him to get comfortable, rambling at length. Alyosha followed his words at first, allowing them to distract him from his discomfort, until the words began to fade into a comforting hum and exhaustion overtook him. 

The next time Arrell looked up, Alyosha was asleep. Arrell bent down and carefully removed Alyosha’s glasses, folding them and setting them out of harm’s way. He got up and extinguished the lamps, leaving the fire burning low in the grate. Not bothering to undress, he climbed into bed beside Alyosha.

Arrell did not sleep. Several times throughout the night, Alyosha woke, feverish and sick. Each time, Arrell sat up with him, holding his hair, tending to his fever, emptying the basin. More than once, Arrell coaxed Alyosha into taking a drink of water, only for it to come back up moments later. It wasn’t until the early hours of dawn, an hour or two since the last time Alyosha had woken to be sick, that Arrell was able to rest. He laid his head close to Alyosha’s and, listening to his even breathing, drifted into an exhausted doze.

They slept that way until late the next morning. Alyosha woke first, still aching and ill, but less exhausted. He could feel Arrell’s warmth at his side and his arm around his waist, welcome against the morning chill. When he opened his eyes, he could see Arrell’s face, serious even in sleep, but softened at the edges. He would have to make this up to Arrell, he knew. But for now, he was glad not to be waking up alone.

 

 

 


	2. Rough Seas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In between, out on the sea, comfort is traded for time together.

The sea was calm as they pulled out of port and settled into their cabin. It was Alyosha’s hope that it would remain that way—for all that he loved to be near the sea, his experiences sailing had been few, and not entirely pleasant at that. It was rare that the need arose, but rarer still that his duties and Arrell’s business sent them in the same direction, an opportunity he was not quick to pass up. Perhaps this time will be different, he thought to himself. After all, he hadn’t been on a ship since he was a child.

It was still calm as they made their way to the main cabin for supper. It was easy enough to ignore the gentle roll of the deck, to walk a little closer to Arrell’s side to compensate for the slight ungainliness of his step. 

“You haven’t found your sea legs,” Arrell commented. 

Alyosha laughed good-naturedly. “I’ve never been particularly quick to. I’ll be all right in a day or two.” He took a seat at the end of one of the benches. 

“Inconvenient, for someone who travels so often.”

“Land travel serves me just fine. I’m rarely going far enough without stops to warrant anything faster,” 

“And yet you agreed to it,” Arrell countered. 

Alyosha smiled and brushed Arrell’s hand. “Well, the chance presented. I’d be a fool to pass it up.” 

Arrell gave a brief but warm smile, and began to eat. Having taken a few cautious bites himself, Alyosha fell into easy conversation with one of the crew. For a while, his mind was busy while the sailor told him about the ship and his family back in Velas. As they moved further out to sea, however, the gentle rocking of the waves became more pronounced, a steady rolling motion beneath the ship. Alyosha’s head began to spin, his thoughts thick and the conversation harder to follow. Tailor, had he said? Or was his partner a hatmaker… The cabin was awfully warm. Alyosha tried to collect his thoughts and fend off the dizziness. 

The sailor paused. “You alright? Only, you’re looking a bit pale.” He smiled sympathetically. “First night out. The waves getting to you?” 

“No, no, I’m fine.” Alyosha returned the sailor’s smile and took a drink of water, soldiering on. He glanced at Arrell, deep in conversation with a traveling merchant. “Go on, I’m listening.” 

The sailor looked skeptical, but continued on with his tale. Alyosha listened with determined concentration. Truth was, the waves were starting to get to him, and soon it was all he could do to keep up a façade of engagement. It was hard to hang onto anyone’s words when the sick tightness beneath his ribs just kept rising. He prayed to Samothes that he didn’t look as ill as he felt.

“Have you been there?” 

“I—what?” Alyosha, responded, caught off guard. 

“Have you been to the church in Velas?” the sailor repeated.

Alyosha had just managed to string together a response when a wave caught the ship from the side, causing plates and cups to slide and his stomach to roil. He set his fork down abruptly and covered his mouth as a queasy hiccup escaped. 

Arrell looked up from his conversation at the clatter. “Alyosha?” His brow pinched at the sight of Alyosha before him, pallid and sweating, plate largely untouched. 

Alyosha choked down another, wetter hiccup that sent a threatening splash of bile into his throat. He pushed away from the table. “I think I ought to get some air… Travelling by sea has never quite agreed with me, I’m afraid.” He offered a wan, apologetic smile and got up from the bench with as much poise as he could muster. Alyosha’s legs were weak beneath him as he stumbled out of the dining room. Thankfully, away from the smell of supper he felt marginally better, his relief enough to carry him up to the top deck. Once topside, he found an open stretch of rail at the aft and sunk against it. Damn, he cursed his body. 

Trying to delay the inevitable would only make it worse, Alyosha knew. He stared down into the water, feeling the churning of his stomach grow to match the choppy surf. It only took a moment of watching the swirling eddies of foam for nausea to overwhelm him. With a warning lurch from his stomach, he leaned over the rail and heaved, meager dinner reappearing to splash into the ocean below. Another wave quickly followed, tears pricking his eyes at the force of it. 

In his misery, Alyosha did not notice Arrell approach until he felt a steadying hand on his back.

“You made a rather rude departure,” said Arrell. 

“Tutor…” Alyosha panted, lifting his head and releasing his vice grip on the rail to wipe his mouth. “Believe me, it would have been far more rude to stay... I think you’ve missed the worst of it.” 

Arrell wrinkled his nose and reached inside his robes to take out a handkerchief. He offered it to Alyosha. “I take it this has happened before.” 

Alyosha took the handkerchief and let out a weak huff of laughter. “I’ve always gotten seasick. When I was a boy, my father and I travelled once by fishing vessel. I-“ his throat bobbed, chin tucking to his chest. “I was so ill I could hardly move for the whole trip.” He ducked forward and burped, a nauseous sound that brought up little more than acrid air and a trickle of liquid. “I thought perhaps I had grown out of it…” 

Arrell tucked Alyosha’s braid safely out of the way and rubbed his back, slightly at a loss. “Clearly that is not the case.” 

“No,” Alyosha agreed with a sigh. “I suppose it doesn’t work that way.” He fixed his eyes on the horizon and tried to steady his breath. “You can go back to your conversation. I may be here for a while.” 

“Nonsense.” Arrell’s hand tightened at Alyosha’s waist, protective. “I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to return to our cabin.” 

Alyosha smiled weakly and leaned into Arrell. “Thank you, Tutor…” 

True to his word, Arrell stayed with Alyosha through several more rounds of retching. Eventually exhaustion overrode nausea, and they picked their way down to the cabins, Alyosha weaving slightly with the pitch of the deck. Arrell led him gently to the suspended bed and helped him to sit. It swung slightly with each dip and rise of the ship. Alyosha blanched, stomach turning. 

“It’s always worse below deck.” He closed his eyes and put a hand to his head as it whirled dizzily. 

Arrell placed a pail at the head of the bed. “Lie quietly and close your eyes. I’ll enchant this to keep equilibrium.” He ran a hand along the rope and murmured a few words, the bed stilling.

Alyosha’s lips pulled into a thin smile as he handed Arrell his glasses and lay down, exhausted. “Thank you.” 

“Of course.” Arrell brushed a hand through the loose strands of Alyosha’s hair. 

A knock at the door interrupted him. Arrell frowned at it. “I’m not taking any visitors,” he called back. 

“Beg pardon, I was looking for your companion.” A muffled voice came through the door.

“Whatever it is, it can wait. He’s indisposed at the moment.” Arrell’s tone was sharp. 

Alyosha recognized the voice of the sailor from earlier and lifted his head. “It’s all right, let him in.” 

Arrell crossed the small space and opened the door, still frowning. “Can I help you?” 

The sailor held up a tin cup, looking past Arrell to Alyosha. “It’s an old remedy. I saw you were still looking a little green about the gills.”

“Ah—yes. I’m sorry for my abrupt departure at supper.” Alyosha grimaced. “That’s very kind of you.” 

The sailor waved him off. “You made it out of the mess, that’s better than some I’ve seen” He stepped inside to hand the cup over to Alyosha who nodded graciously and took a hesitant sip. It was warm and burned not unpleasantly, settling soothingly in his tormented stomach. Ginger and some kind of strong alcohol, if he were to guess. 

Alyosha sighed softly. “Thank you. Yes, I think this will help.” 

“Should take the edge off, at least.” The young man looked rather pleased with himself, not turning away until Arrell cleared his throat.

“That’ll be all, I think.” He still didn’t look pleased with the incursion into his space, although Alyosha’s apparent relief had softened his demeanor considerably. 

“Right. Won’t be bothering you any more.” The sailor ducked back out of the room. “We should be on smoother seas come tomorrow.” 

Arrell nodded, satisfied, and closed the door. 

“Can you stand three days of this?” asked Alyosha, cup cradled in his thin fingers.

“I think I should be asking you that.” Arrell crossed back to Alyosha’s side.

“I have no doubt of my own hardiness, and that Samothes will see us through. I don’t have so much faith in your patience.” A smile played around his lips. 

Arrell kissed Alyosha’s head before taking a seat at the small desk and pulling a book from his things. “It isn’t as if it’ll be the first time you’ve tried it.”

Alyosha laughed. “That it won’t be.” He settled the cup nearby and lay down again, closing his eyes. “We will see how we fare tonight.’ 

“That we will.”


End file.
